Aftermath
by curlyred
Summary: After a drug deal gone wrong, Walt helps Jesse through the aftermath of being attacked. Warning: contains implied sexual assault/adult content
1. Gone Wrong

Walt looked around before approaching the house. What he was looking for he couldn't say. He just had a sketchy feeling about the place. Jesse had gone over there the previous evening to get the money for a big deal he had executed with the help of Badger and Skinny Pete. The owner of the house was a known dealer and bought from them in large quantities, so Jesse had been sent over to settle up after they'd ripped of Skinny Pete. He had said he could handle it himself rather than get Walt involved but the guy was big time and Walt had been uneasy.

He had warned Jesse to just be and in out but he hadn't called him back since he'd left. At first Walt wasn't concerned but he drove by Jesse's house and didn't see his car in the driveway, he was getting worried. He had called and Jesse hadn't answered his phone, although he usually didn't this early in the morning.

Still, Walt just had a feeling. There was no one on the street in this neighborhood this early and Walt approached the house and attempted to peer through a window before knocking. No answer. Walt tried the door and much to his surprise it was unlocked. He entered slowly, half expecting to have a gun drawn on him. There was a girl wearing almost nothing passed out on an air mattress, while a gangster looking guy laid next to her on the floor, hugging a pillow. A gun lay on the floor next to him. Walt picked it up quietly and took it with him.

He moved on into the living room where ashtrays, crack pipes, broken bottles and needles littered the floor. He was debating whether to go upstairs when he heard a moan from inside the kitchen. The kitchen was worse than the living room and Walt noted what he thought was blood on the floor. He gasped when he saw a man lying face down on the floor, lying in the doorway to some kind of three season porch. He could only see his legs, but recognized the shoes. Jesse.

Walt's heart sped up. This was no natural way or place to lay down, Jesse was unconscious, either from drugs or violence. Since he doubted Jesse would hang around to party with his enemies, he feared the worst. He set the gun down on the counter and hurried to his friend,

"Jesse," He whispered, not wanting to wake anyone else. As he bent over him he noticed blood on his pants. He crawled through the doorway, leaned over Jesse and realized he was positioned as though he had been trying to crawl out of the house when he'd lost consciousness. Walt grabbed the back of his shirt and attempted to turn him over.

He moaned. Thank God he was alive.

"Jess…Jesse, wake up, it's me."

"Huh?" Walt pulled Jesse somewhat upright and looked at him. He had a black eye, several cuts and bruises on his face and blood dripping out of his mouth. This didn't look good. Walt crawled the rest of the way over Jesse so he was completely on the porch and dragged Jesse out by his shoulders. He yelped loudly when his bottom scraped the floor and Walt froze. Whatever had happened here the night before was not good and he didn't want to have to defend himself and Jesse against who knows what.

"Jesse, can you hear me?" He whispered.

"Mr. White?" Jesse croaked.

"Yeah, son, it's me," Walt whispered, "Come on, we've got to get you out of here, okay?"

"I…don't.." Jesse whispered, head rolling to the side.

Walt stood and yanked Jesse upward, trying to get him to stand on his own. No dice, he would have to carry him. He bent and threw Jesse over his shoulders and left through the back door to the porch. He carried him down the driveway, hoping no one in the house would see and wishing he had brought that gun. He had thought he was being smart to park down the street on the way in but now regretted it, as Jesse was heavy for a skinny guy.

When at last he reached his car, he struggled to put Jesse in the back seat. Trying not to exaggerate unknown injuries, he did his best to position him gently. He noticed a lot more blood on his clothes and skin, as his shirt was badly torn. There was also a pretty distinct boot print in Jesse's light colored shirt and Walt hoped he hadn't been kicked badly enough to fracture ribs. Walt felt his wrists and checked his breathing, trying to decide to take him to the hospital or back to his house. He didn't seem to be conscious at all now.

Walt gently rubbed his shoulder, trying to wake him up but couldn't get much. Deciding he didn't want to stand there in the street any longer, he got in the driver's seat and began driving. Halfway to Jesse's house, he heard a mumble from the backseat.

"Jesse, are you alright?"

"…why….where…"

Walk turned around but couldn't see Jesse's face as it was behind the driver's seat.

"It's okay, Jess, it's Walt. I'm taking you home."

"….sick…." was the only response he could get, followed by dry heaving.

He managed to pull over and open the door before Jesse started vomiting, thankfully on the street and not in the car. Since he was lying down, he slowly began sliding out of the car, face first as he continued to vomit. Just as he was about to fall into his own mess, Walt reached out and grabbed his shoulders, turning him so he would land on his bottom instead of his face.

"What do you want, why are you touching me?" Jesse screamed, the loudest and most coherent thing he had said yet.

Walt stepped back, surprised, questioning eyes focused on his young partner.

"Jesse…I just…."

"You just what?" Jesse scooted away, still on the ground, eyes filled with fear, "I don't….I…." He was breathing too hard to continue and still unable to get up.

"Jesse, what are you on?" Walt asked firmly.

"No, nothing," Jesse looked at his shaking hands, "I drank a beer, I think…I couldn't move after that…slipped something…I passed out."

Walt reached out to Jesse, hoping he would take his hand and let him help him up. Jesse paused for a few seconds, then seemed to look around for the first time and realize he was sitting in the street, between his friend and a puddle of his own vomit and take stock. He reached up and took Walt's hands, his own hands shaking, sweaty and clammy.

Walt pulled him up, realizing something terrible had happened, as he had never seen Jesse in this much of state, even when he was high. Jesse's legs were shaking and he was having trouble standing on his own, so Walt leaned him up against the car. It was then that he noticed the goosebumps on his arms and realized he was probably cold, as there was a chill in the air and Jesse had been basically outside in a T shirt all night. Walt took off his own jacket and draped it over his friend's shoulders.

"Thanks, Mr. White," Jesse said, calmer now, and gratefully pulled the front of the jacket around him.

"Do you want some water or something?" Walt asked, looking in the front seat, "Well, I've got some…kiwi fruit punch explosion…" He read the label, "One of Skylars vitamin drinks or something."

Jesse nodded and accepted the half drank bottle of mystery juice. Anything to get the taste of puke out of his mouth.

"It's…bad," He said, fighting the urge to spit it out.

"Come on," Walt said, motioning for him to get in the car, "I'll take you home."

He helped Jesse up into the seat, where he sat on his own this time and continued the drive. When he got to Jesse's house, Jesse was walking on his own but Walt followed him in and Jesse didn't tell him not to. When he got to his single front step, he bumped his foot on the step and nearly toppled over. Something was definitely wrong, Walt decided, and he wanted to know what had happened. Walk kept his hands on the young man's shoulders to steady him until they reached the kitchen.

"Jesse, what happened?" Walt handed him a glass of water as Jesse just sat at the kitchen table, staring at him blankly.

"I don't know, Mr. White," He said dully, "I just want to take a shower."

Walt frowned. He wasn't sure if his fried would be able to stand long enough to take a shower. Without a word, he wetted a rag from the kitchen and handed it to Jesse. He began wiping his face with it. Walt waited silently.

"I don't know," Jesse said loudly, answering his unspoken question, "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"You think they drugged you?"

"I said I don't know."

"Fair enough," Walt agreed, "You probably need some rest anyway. I'll help you get up the stairs."

Jesse looked reluctant, but doubting his own ability to get up the stairs, nodded. Walt stood behind him with a steadying hand on his back and let him take his time. Halfway up, he stopped,

"I'm sorry, I got to sit down for a second, my knees."

Walt had noticed his legs were shaky, but hadn't said anything. He could see that Jesse was in a bad way, but didn't know what to do or what Jesse would let him do. Honestly, he was surprised Jesse had let him come in the house at all. He let Jesse catch his breath and continued to help him up the stairs. He let Jesse sit on his bed, but when he began to lay down, Walt said,

"Don't lay down, Jess, hold on a second?"

"What?" Jesse managed, but Walt had disappeared into the bathroom.

He came out holding a wet towel and a bottle of peroxide.

"A couple of those look kind of deep," He said gently, motioning to the cuts on Jesse's face.

"Do we have to do this now?" Jesse moaned, "I'm tired."

"Yeah, I know," Walt said sympathetically, sitting down on the bed next to him, "But trust me you don't want an infection on top of all of this."

Jesse grunted in acquiescence as Walt began dabbing peroxide on the deepest of the cuts.

"Okay, this is gonna sting just a little," He warned, but Jesse was already biting his lower lip in pain, "Damn, you've got a pretty big one on the back of your head, here, look down."

Jesse buried his head in his hands, stooped so far forward he was almost touching his knees.

"Did the dealer attack you?" Walt asked.

Jesse nodded, "They all did. They were all casual at first, offered me a beer…I thought it was gonna go down fine. Then they all jumped me, there was like four of them and they were all kicking me and suddenly I couldn't move….it…uh…wasn't good."

"Holy, shit, Jess, I'm sorry, I should have gone over there with you."

"Then they would've just kicked your ass too…neither of us saw this coming."

"I know….I just…are you wounded under your shirt too?"

Jesse shrugged and pulled the T shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. Both gasped. His chest and back were a war zone of cuts and boot shaped bruises. Walt immediately noticed that his lower back was covered in blood, leading down his pants. He sighed, as this confirmed what he had already suspected when he saw the blood on Jesse's pants earlier. He began applying alcohol to the cuts he could see, trying to decide how to approach this. When he got to Jesse's lower back, Jesse, who was already shaking and uncomfortable, stood up and said,

"Thanks, Mr. White, you can go now…I'm gonna get in the shower."

He walked into the bathroom and Walt could hear the shower running. He didn't even bother to close the bathroom door, so Walt waited a few minutes before standing in the doorway. He could hear Jesse muttering, perhaps fighting tears. His pants and underwear were discarded on the floor. Walt used his foot to overturn Jesse's pants and confirmed that both his pants and underwear were covered in blood. It was a lot too…Walt wasn't sure what to do, as it was very possible that Jesse needed medical attention and unlikely that he would seek it out. Especially not for something like this. Walt took a deep breath and retreated back to Jesse's bedroom.

Meanwhile, in the shower, Jesse was struggling to stay standing. Still, he had to get the stench of last night off of him. He just felt so disgusting. He just wanted it to be gone, to never have happened. He noticed the tremendous amount of blood staining the water that ran down the drain. He tried to look at his own back, but without much success. At first he figured it was just the dried blood washing off, but soon realized he was still bleeding from his ass. _Great_ , he thought, _What am I going to do about that?_

He tried to figure out how much he was bleeding but because the shower water was diluting it so bad it was hard to tell. He also couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from, as he couldn't' see that part of himself. Maybe if he had a handheld mirror, which of course he didn't. Oh, he just wanted to go to sleep and forget about this. Wake up thinking it was a dream. But it had been a good four hours since anything had happened and he was still bleeding, that had to be a bad sign. He reasoned that if he were going to bleed out it would have happened already, but he didn't know that. He was debating what to do as he got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around himself and went back to his bedroom. He opened his drawer and fished out a baggy T shirt and pajama pants and struggled to them, pants first. He turned around as he was pulling the shirt over his head and nearly jumped out of his skin when he pulled the shirt down and saw Walt sitting in the chair in the corner. He must have been there the whole time but in his preoccupied state he hadn't noticed.

"I thought you left," He stammered, "What the hell are you still doing here, perving on me?"

"I was worried, Jesse," Walt said truthfully, "You could hardly get up the stairs, I didn't want to you fall or something."

"Well, I'm fine, you can go now."

Walt stood and walked halfway across the room to Jesse, biting his lip, knowing he had to say something.

"Jesse, how bad are you hurt?"

"It's fine, just some cuts and bruises. Nothing special." He looked at the ground

"Jesse, look at me." He briefly met Walt's gaze before turning to the ceiling, then the chair, he couldn't stand to look at Walt.

"Please, look at me," Walt said again.

Jesse took a breathe and met Walt's gaze. It was so uncomfortable he didn't know what to do. His heart was racing on top of already feeling sick. He didn't want to talk about what happened and he certainly didn't want to have this conversation now. He wanted to blow up at Walt but in the back of his head was scared to be left alone, as he didn't really know how bad he was hurt. His cheeks burned, he must be beet red, surely Walt had already figured out what had happened. His own memory of it was foggy but he remembered being kicked, being called a faggot and he remembered the unbelievably sharp pain in his ass and the weight of the gangsters on top of him. The sound of the others cheering and the scratchy feel of the porch's astroturf grinding against his face.

"Why don't you just go home?" he exploded.

"Jesse," Walt said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, not the least bit put off by his false bravado.

"Don't touch me man," Jesse slapped his hand away and pushed Walt as hard as he could. Unfortunately, he was still quite weak and only managed to knock himself over, Walt didn't budge. He sat on the floor, fighting back tears as he tried to turn away from Walt. Walt bent to sit on the floor next to him and moved the towel Jesse had discarded in order to sit. When he lifted the towel he noticed the blood stains and his worst fear was confirmed.

"Jesse," he said calmly, "Are you still bleeding?"

Jesse turned his head sharply to look at Walt. How did he know that? When he saw the towel he knew Walt had figured it out.

"A little," He croaked, fighting back tears, "I don't know, I can't tell."

Walt put his hand on Jesse's shoulder again and this time he leaned into it. He couldn't control the sobbing anymore and although he was embarrassed, he allowed Walt to hold him for a few minutes.

"Jesse, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I think you might need to go the hospital."

"No," Jesse replied immediately.

"I know," Walt squeezed his shoulder, "But you could be in real danger. The bleeding should have stopped by now…..look, if it helps, I could…..let you know how bad it is."

"You mean, you want to ….look at it?"

Walt nodded, frowning, "If you would rather do that…I could at least tell you what we're looking at here."

Jesse stared in disbelief. The last thing he wanted to do was to go the hospital. The second to last thing would be to let Walt examine his ass, but he was afraid it had to be him or strangers, and he certainly didn't feel like being touched by strangers. Not today.

"Okay," He gave in.

Walt nodded, "Why don't you just…take your pants off and lay face down."

Jesse took an extra minute to fumble with the drawstring on his PJ pants before dropping them. He hadn't bothered to put on any new underwear. As he laid down on the bed he had sudden flashbacks of the night before. The feeling of the gangsters hands on his back. And then…he didn't want to think about it. He bit his wrist to keep from screaming as Walt sat on the bed next to him.

"Okay, Jess, don't freak out, I need to touch you for just a second," Walt warned.

"Okay,"He said, his mouth full of his own wrist.

He cringed as he felt Walt's hands on his buttocks and heard him gasp, suddenly.

"What, what is it?" he asked, about to cry from the sheer awkwardness of it all. When Walt didn't respond he rolled over to see that his friends face was pale.

"What, yo, what is it?" He demanded.

"Okay, Jesse, the thing is….your perineum is torn a little."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's the space between your…"

"My taint? Oh, man, you mean my taint is bleeding?"

"Yeah, and um…some of the insides are on the outside. You are going to need stitches, son, someone is going to have to repair this."

Jesse looked absolutely terrified. Walt's heart melted to see the fear on this kids face. And he certainly didn't blame him- not only what had happened but the sheer awkwardness he would have to face telling the hospital staff what had happened.

"I can't," Jesse seemed to read his mind, "I can't go to the hospital and tell them what happened. I ….can't…what would happen if I just let it go?"

"Well, it's possible that you would bleed out. More likely this will get infected. It wouldn't heal right, Jesse, you would have some damage forever. Then you'd always have to think about it."

A fair point, Jesse decided, he certainly didn't want to have a permanent reminder of what had happened last night.

"I can't tell anyone," Jesse whispered, "I just can't."

"Then I will," Walt said, soft eyes staring down at his young friend, "Okay? I will take you to the hospital and I'll do all the talking. You just have to let them help you."

Jesse considered this as he put his clothes back on. While he could think of nothing more unpleasant than a trip to the hospital, Walt had convinced him it was necessary to avoid permanent damage. Let Walt take him in and handle the awkward part or tell him to fuck off and save face? He bit his lip, contemplating.

"Jesse?"

He didn't answer. As much as he wanted Walt to respect him, he couldn't even imagine having to walk up to a stranger and say it, tell what happened. Walt was so much more composed…

"Jesse," Walt nudged him slightly.

When he didn't move, Walt backed off. Jesse often froze up and was unresponsive when he was upset, so Walt decided to just let him think.

"I'll be right back," He told the stoic young man and left the room.

He proceeded calmly downstairs and started a pot of coffee. When he returned to Jesse's room ten minutes later with two cups of coffee, Jesse hadn't moved. But Walt knew he had been thinking. He held out a cup of coffee to him but Jesse didn't respond. Setting his own cup down, Walt pressed Jesse's cup into his hand until he took it.

"Thanks," He nodded.

Walt didn't press, just waited. Jesse took a few sips of coffee and said, "Well, I guess we're going to the hospital."


	2. Before

Without a word they walked down to Walt's car. Jesse didn't make a peep the entire drive to the hospital, but instead shifted his weight uncomfortably in the seat and stared out the window. Walt kept glancing over at him, knowing he was incredibly scared from the way he rubbed his hands over his face, as we always did when things got too intense for him. He wanted to say something to make him feel better but couldn't think of anything good. I mean, what could he possibly say to make this better? To be honest he was surprised that Jesse had even let him take him to the hospital.

When they arrived, Walt parked and got out. Jesse stayed in the car, staring out the passenger window but not looking at Walt, even when he came around and opened the door, holding out a hand in case Jesse just tumbled out of the car.

"Jesse?" Walt said, trying to meet his eye, "Are you passing out or are you just freezing up cause you have no idea what to do?"

"Yeah, that," Jesse mumbled, looking briefly at Walt, then shying away, intimidated by his friends concerned gaze.

"This will be okay," Walt assured, "Come on, get out."

Jesse slowly got out of the car and followed Walt into the hospital. Between the smell of the hospital, the bright lights and words like _sexual assault_ being bantered around between an endless sea of hospital workers, Jesse could hardly place himself. It all seemed like a blur. He was vaguely aware of Walt pushing him gently forward, of being led to an exam room. He cringed when he was asked to drop his pants and let a stranger examine him, but he did it slowly and in a checked out state. He snapped back to attention when the doctor said,

"We're going to have to do a very minor procedure to fix this up. We can do it right here, today. Is that alright? I just need to ask you a couple of questions and we can get started."

Jesse looked up, realizing that Walt was still in the room. Sitting in the corner, silently. Jesse forced himself to meet Walt's eye, just long enough to give him a look that said, _Please do the talking. Please._

"I'd be happy to answer any questions," Walt volunteered, "He's not…well, he's not really himself right now."

"That's to be expected," The nurse explained, "Okay, so I just need a little history. You said this was a sexual assault?"

Jesse looked down, cheeks burning, fighting back tears.

"That's right," Walt answered, maintaining his composure.

"When did this occur?"

"Yesterday."

"And did he seek any medical treatment already?"

"No."

"Okay, and would you like us to do a rape kit?"

"No!" Jesse spoke for himself on that one.

"Alright, Mr. Pinkman, we're going to have to put you under anesthesia for this. Do you have any family history of sleep apnea?"

Jesse shook his head.

"Okay, how about any shortness of breath, lung disease, anything like that?"

Jesse hung his head over the edge of the exam table, unable to answer any more.

"He has no health problems other than this," Walt chimed in.

"What about history of bleeding disorders?" The nurse asked, concern in her voice.

"No," Walt answered.

"Well, it's just that some of the scarring is prematurely thick. The wounds are fresh and bleeding, which is consistent with an attack that happened yesterday, but the scarring in the rectum is already far more built up that it should be."

"Is that a problem?" Walt asked sharply, sensing that Jesse's patience had run out.

"It's indicative of abnormal tissue growth, which can be an issue during a surgical procedure."

"What kind of issue?" Walt demanded.

"….before…" Jesse muttered, face to the ground.

"What was that, sweetie?" The nurse asked.

"I said they were there before!" Jesse screamed, looking up long enough for Walt to see the vein in his forehead popping with pent up anger, "The scars, they were already there! Please, just do the damn surgery."

He couldn't help it anymore and tears ran down his face. Walt wanted to go to him but couldn't bring himself to move. He watched the pain in Jesse's face as he lay crying on the exam table.

"Alright, Mr. White, we're going to move him into surgery now. You can wait in the waiting room and he will be out in about an hour or so."

Walt nodded to Jesse as he left the room, unable to forget the look on his face.

When Jesse woke up hours later, the whole incident was a blur. At first he couldn't figure out where he was, but as his focus improved he remembered the events of the morning. He became vaguely aware of a cold washcloth on his forehead and realized that Walt was sitting next to him, wiping his face with the cloth. Realizing this, he jumped up forcefully, gasping.

"Jesse," Walt pinned his bare arms against his chest. It was then he realized, that his clothes were gone, he was wearing one of those flimsy hospital gowns. _Great, as if I needed to be more vulnerable,_ he thought.

"Stop it, stop it," Walt was telling him, "It's me. It's Walt. You're okay."

Jesse put his arms down, looking around vigilantly.

"It's over, you did it," Walt said, "Calm down, we'll just let you come to a little bit and we can go home."

"We?" Jesse croaked.

"We'll figure it out," Walt assured, "Just relax."

As they sat in the car on the drive back, Walt again attempted to engage Jesse, who looked a little bit better now that it was over and he was back in his normal clothes.

"Are you hungry?" Walt asked, "We can swing by a…"

"No!" Jesse lashed out, "Look at me, dude, I can't even sit straight cause my ass is all fucked up! No, I don't want to go into a restaurant!"

Jesse motioned for Walt to see how he was sitting with one knee tucked up under him to protect his fresh wounds.

"I was gonna say drive through," Walt said softly.

"Oh…uh..no thanks."

After another moment of awkward silence, Walt reached out again,

"Relax, Jesse, I know its awkward but trust me, I'm a teacher. That means I'm a mandatory reporter, do you know what that is?"

"Um…does that mean you have to report like child abuse and shit?"

"Basically, yes," Walt explained, "It means I have had hundreds of awkward conversations, had to explain my suspicions of sexual abuse to principals, counselors, social services, you name it. This isn't the first time I've come across something like this and it probably won't be the last. So you don't need to worry about me. Okay? Are we cool?"

"Yeah, we're cool," Jesse murmured, glad this wasn't as big a deal for his partner as it was for him, but also a little unnerved to think that Walt thought of him as an abused kid, sitting in the principal's office waiting for social services.

When they arrived at Jesse's house moments later, Jesse hopped out of the car and Walt once again followed him in. Walt waited a minute after closing the door behind him to speak.

"Well, it's up to you," He said carefully, "Do you want me to stay awhile or will you be okay by yourself?"

"I'm okay," Jesse said, "I just want to sleep."

"That's fine," Walt said, "I have to meet up with Skylar to discuss…things…anyway. I'll come back around dinner time, I'll bring you some food and we'll cook."

"What?"

"Food, I mean, not meth," Walt laughed, "Sound good?"

Jesse nodded. Walt could see how tired he was.

"Okay?" He held out his arms, gesturing like he was going to hug him, but not stepping forward, inviting Jesse to make the first move.

Jesse stepped into his arms and hugged him. He could feel how thin and frail Jesse really was, as he was wearing just a T-shirt instead of his usual layers. Walt pulled him in, resting his chin on the top of the young man's head.

"Thank you for taking me to the hospital," Jesse said, giving into Walt's embrace, "I was not ready to deal with that on my own."

"You're welcome," Walt said, "Get some rest, I'll see you later."


	3. Uncle

Jesse stood in the kitchen later than evening, feeling much better after a good nap. He still needed that shower, as his attempt that morning hadn't gone off as planned. Since he couldn't take a traditional shower for a few days while his, _what did Mr. White call it? Perineum?_ heals up, he decided the kitchen sink was the next best option. He filled a small bucket with soapy water and began to scrub his neck and shoulders. They hurt. His back hurt too, in addition to his obvious wounds. He rang a soapy sponge out over his head in an attempt to wash his filthy hair before bending his whole head under the faucet. His aunt used to do this to him when he was a kid. _Gypsy Bath, that's what she called it,_ he remembered. She had done it to him a million times, as he had had an affinity as a kid for getting filthy right before church or some other formal event.

He set about scrubbing his own hair, head bent under the faucet. It wasn't easy to do as an adult to begin with, but add in the fact that most of his muscles were sore and his skin bruised, he was having an uncomfortable time of it. When he heard the door close, he jumped, banging his head on the faucet, causing him to fall and spill the bucket of soapy water.

"Craaaaap," He moaned loudly.

Walt turned the corner, confused to find his friend sitting on the kitchen floor in nothing but boxer shorts, surrounded by a mess of soapy water.

"What happened here?" He asked, brow furrowed in intense curiosity.

Jesse waved a hand dismissively, "I was trying to wash my hair in the sink….I can't take a shower cause the stiches and bandages and shit…..they said I can't cause I'll get soap in it and it's all ….you know …sore."

Walt chuckled nervously, "Well next time let me know, I'll help you. Or at least take you outside and hose you down in the yard."

Jesse thought ruefully that that might have been a better idea.

"Go get dressed," Walt instructed, "I'll clean this up. I brought stuff to make chili- is that good?"

Jesse nodded awkwardly and scurried upstairs to change his clothes. When he came back down, he looked much more like himself, wearing sweatpants and a loose zip up hoodie.

"Now, here is something you can cook with chili powder," Walt joked, laying out ingredients.

Jesse smiled, glad Walt wasn't pushing him on anything personal. _Yet,_ he reminded himself, certain that Walt would eventually start prying. He cracked a beer and handed one to his older friend, which Walt accepted gratefully. The two cooked in relative normalcy and an hour later they were eating in the living room. Jesse had just finished his chili when Walt said,

"How was it?"

"Good," Jesse answered honestly, munching on a piece of garlic bread, "You can cook, yo, maybe you should have been a chef."

"More money cooking meth than chili," Walt mumbled, swallowing a mouthful, "Hey, I brought something you might like."

"What's that?" Jesse asked as Walt rooted around in the paper grocery bag he'd brought.

"This is some nice aged Scotch," Walt produced a bottle, "Go grab some glasses."

"Oh, nice," Jesse took the bottle and inspected it. He didn't know the first thing about Scotch, but could tell by the look of it, it was fancy.

He went back into the kitchen and began looking for some regular glasses, as all the ones he had were plastic and probably not appropriate for scotch. Finally, he found two small glass salsa jars he kept meaning to recycle and began rinsing them, hoping he could pass them off as actual glasses. Silently, he debated if the scotch was a pity gesture, in which case he should just dump it out now or if Walt was genuinely being friendly. Weirdly, in all the time they had been working together, Jesse realized he knew very little about Walt in a social setting. It wasn't like he got invited to his backyard barbecue's or anything.

Jesse brought the "glasses" into the living room, thinking distantly that he would like to go to one of Walt's barbecues. _Unless his brother in law was there, boy does that guy ever have a stick up his butt for me._ He handed a jar to Walt nervously, but if Walt noticed that his Scotch glasses were salsa jars he didn't let on. Instead he poured a little in each glass.

"Um, do you want like some ice or something?" Jesse asked.

"No, I like it this way. Neat."

"Yeah, neat," Jesse said.

"No," Walt laughed, "Neat means no ice."

"Right, no I knew that…"

Walt smiled and Jesse sat back in the living room chair identical to the one Walt was occupying. He took another sip, the stuff was really smooth. He silently vowed that now that he had money, he should learn a little about Scotch.

"Before?" Walt asked calmly, looking up at Jesse.

"Before what?" Jesse demanded.

"At the hospital today," Walt traced the rim of his glass with his index finger, "You said the scars were there before."

Walt could see Jesse's defenses go up immediately. He grabbed the remote off the table and squeezed it angrily, accidentally pausing the music they had had on in the background.

"So?" He asked, trying to keep it together.

"So, nothing," Walt coaxed calmly, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…I just wanted to put it on the table."

"Put this on the table," Jesse gestured to his crotch, immediately realizing how inappropriate that was in the context of this conversation, "You're damn right I don't have to tell you. And there's nothing to tell. So just leave me alone, you nosy bitch!"

Before he realized he was doing it, he had thrown the remote control against the wall behind Walt's head. Walt continued to sip his scotch and didn't bat an eye. Jesse stood in the center of the floor, trembling with anger and confusion, waiting to see what Walt would do.

"Alright, Son," Walt said smoothly, "Here's how this is going to go. You can finish throwing your little fit, then sit back down and have a drink with me and we'll decide where to go from here. Okay, it's up to you. If you don't ever want to bring this up again, that's your decision. Take your time."

Jessie scratched his head and stood awkwardly shaking for a minute before sitting back down. He wrapped his arms around himself, realizing he was strangely cold. He had been wearing a hoodie earlier but must have ripped it off during his fit of nervousness, as it was now balled up across the room by the remote. Walt wordlessly took Jesse's glass and poured each of them another Scotch. He stayed quiet waiting for Jesse to calm down, certain he would tell him to never bring up the subject again, and that would be the end of it.

"I had this Uncle," Jesse blurted, surprising himself as much as Walt.

When Walt looked up at him, Jesse downed the rest of the Scotch in his glass and held it out, not even attempting to hide his shaking hands.

"This Uncle," Jesse continued while Walt poured, "His name was like Ed or Ted or something. Everybody called him Booker. He wasn't really my Uncle, it was my aunt's boyfriend, but they were together for like ten years."

Walt let him ramble, curious if he would make it through the story, as his voice was husky and he seemed to be choking on his words.

"What happened?" Walt asked, hoping his words wouldn't break the spell and cause Jesse to clam up.

"He was handy, so he was around our house like all the time cause my parents had less money then and couldn't fix shit…cause they were all like intellectual, you know? Anyway this one day I was playing in my room and he comes in and uh….he wanted to do something, like play a game or something…it wasn't a game I'd heard of….he said we had to….take off our pants. I did it and I don't know why, cause I didn't like it already, I just thought I'd get in trouble, cause my parents didn't like it when I was _defiant._ That's what they said all the time…."

Beads of sweat were running across his forehead. He tried to wipe them away but seemed to be losing that battle.

"He put his…he did things…he raped me," Jesse forced himself to say it, "It was weird, I didn't get what was happening at first. And it hurt really bad too, like no mercy or anything. I just kept saying I didn't like this game..I didn't want to play…"

He had stood up and started pacing, twisting his hand around his wrist and periodically biting his knuckle, maybe to keep from screaming or crying. Walt definitely sensed he was close.

"How old were you?" Walt asked gently.

"Um…young…like nine or ten."

"Did you tell anybody?"

Jesse nodded, "Not at first. He said I would get in trouble and my parents wouldn't love me anymore…cause what we did was bad. Finally I told my Mom and she didn't believe me. Like, where would a ten year old learn that if it wasn't true?" His voice cracked, "I mean, think about it, it's not like I'm the kind of kid that reads. Anyway, she told my dad. He got really mad. Like really mad. He wasn't a violent guy but he straight up slapped me in the face. Said I was lying."

Walt's face fell, he could see the pain in Jesse's eyes and wasn't sure how to reach him without scaring him off.

"That's not the worst part though. I know they knew it was true because they would never let him go near my little brother. They were super protective of him. The guy never came back to our house but if we were over at my aunts my parents watched my brother like every second. Even like stand outside the bathroom and wait for him so he wouldn't be alone with this dude even for a second."

"Did they watch you too?"

"No," Jesse's face twisted in agony and he was visibly shaking now, "No, that's the really fucked up thing. He left me alone for awhile but it happened again when I was like twelve. Then when I was fifteen I was sneaking beers while we were over there cause my parents were so busy watching my brother I thought it was a like a golden opportunity. When I closed the fridge the asshole was there and for some reason I thought he was going to yell at me for stealing his beer….he didn't though, he dragged me out into a shed and ….raped me…hard, like three or four times. Ass bled for days….just like what happened yesterday…."

Jesse paused, suddenly seeming to realize he had shared more than he set out to. Walt stood up slowly.

"Geez, I knew you when you were fifteen," He said softly. It was weird to think of now- him teaching Jesse in high school chemistry, before he had cancer, before they were meth tycoons. How crazy the world was, "If I had known all that was happening…."

"I mean, I guess I deserved it…"

"No, Son," Walt took a tentative step towards him, "It's not your fault. This guy was…"

"Did you hear me?" Jesse demanded, rocking back and forth on his heels, "I said I was fifteen. That means I was big enough and smart enough to do something about it. Or just crack his damn skull open. But I didn't. I couldn't cause I was some kind of damn pussy. I thought I couldn't do anything cause I'd get in trouble. No one would believe me, even though my damn parents. They knew, they had to know, they just didn't care. They only ever cared about my brother…."

Jesse stopped talking abruptly, wiping away a strand of tears. His chest heaved as he looked up at Walt suspiciously, uncertain how he would react.

"Damn, Jesse, I'm sorry," Walt said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He tried not to wince, it was just such an uncomfortable situation and for some reason the comforting touch made him feel that much more vulnerable. Walt squeezed his shoulder gently, applying just enough pressure to pull Jesse a little closer. He ran his hand slowly down Jesse's back, waiting to see if Jesse would be okay to hug him.

"You're safe here, you know?" Walt continued, reaching out his other hand to draw the young man into a full hug, "I'm sorry this all happened to you and if you ever feel like…."

"I hate this," Jesse breathed as Walt held him against his broad chest, "I hate feeling this way, I hate that you know about this. I just hate all of it."

Slowly, Jesse wrapped his own arms around his friend, pulling himself tighter into the embrace. He had to admit, the warmth from Walt's body was comforting to him, particularly since he himself was freezing. Walt put his hand on the back of Jesse's head, pulling him in and resting his chin on the top of the younger man's head.

"You're okay," He promised as he let his friend cry it out.

When at last Jesse had no more tears to cry, he backed up and wiped his face.

"What now?" He asked, eyes still red and watery.

"You tell me," Walt said.

"I guess we…pour another scotch, sit back down and watch some TV or something."

"That sounds good," Walt began to pour some scotch into Jesse's glass.

"I'll get the remote," Jesse moved around Walt to get the wall, "I kind of…threw it…a little."

"Just a little," Walt laughed, sitting on the couch instead of the chair were he had been before, curious to see if Jesse would sit next to him.

Sure enough, the young man flipped on the TV and sat next to Walt on the couch.

"What do you want to watch?" Jesse asked, "Discovery channel?"

"Sounds good to me," Walt said, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind Jesse, "You know I saw this great show on here the other day."


End file.
